Breaking Off the Engagement

Dahlia stepped out of what should have been her new home and set off down the street. The sun shone down with a gentle warmth, the red brick streets of the royal capital bustling with people and carriages.

This kingdom, Ordine, had a history going back over two hundred years. It was a peaceful and well-governed land with fair and sensible laws. The royal capital was exceptionally safe and orderly, so Dahlia had heard. Sure enough, a young woman could walk through the city alone without fear, something that was apparently unthinkable in other kingdoms.

She was thankful to have been reborn in this place, even if it was in an entirely new world.

It would have been nice if that good luck had carried over to the matter of her marriage, but perhaps that was asking too much. With slightly quickened steps, Dahlia turned off the main street and made her way to a small salon with a blue roof.

“Hi, Irma. Are you busy?”

“Oh, there’s our new bride! Come on in. We’re just about to have lunch.”

Seemingly finished with her morning clients, Dahlia’s dark-haired friend was sweeping up the hair on the floor.

“Thanks. I’m not a bride yet, but I’ll take you up on lunch. Is Marcello in?”

“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen. I’ll be there once I’ve finished cleaning up here, but you go on and have something to eat.”

Dahlia didn’t need to be shown the way; she knew the salon well. She made her way to the back and through the door that led into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi, Dahlia! What can I get you? Orange juice? Glass of wine?”

There, taking his lunch, was just the man she was looking for—Marcello, from the Couriers’ Guild. This sturdily built man with sandy hair was Irma’s husband and a good friend of Dahlia’s. Dahlia had heard that he often came home for lunch, and she was pleased to find him here.

“Could I have some orange juice? Thanks.”

He obliged, handing her a plate with some sandwiches, too, as she sat down across from him at the table.

Irma’s sandwiches were always a delight. Today’s were on thickly sliced rye bread, with two different fillings. One featured a beautifully balanced combination of cheese, smoked ham, and lettuce; the other contained egg and sliced vegetables mixed with generous amounts of fresh mayonnaise. Dahlia had the recipe for both, but somehow she couldn’t quite replicate Irma’s flavors.

They ate in silence, and Irma came in just as Dahlia was finishing her first sandwich. She drank her orange juice and, once he’d finished eating, turned to Marcello.

“Marcello, I’m sorry to trouble you again after you just moved all my furniture the other day, but I’m afraid I need it moved back. As soon as possible, preferably.”

“That’s no problem. I can do it today if after four’s all right. A few of the lads’ll be free then. Did Tobias have enough already?”

“Did it not suit the new place?”

Dahlia couldn’t help but smile wryly as both husband and wife questioned her at the same time.

“He broke off our engagement.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Once again, the two spoke in unison. Summoning up the cheeriest smile she could, Dahlia curtly explained the situation.

“Tobias Orlando has found true love, so he says.”

Dead silence. The couple’s faces became as stiff as a pair of masks.

Speaking of which, Dahlia hadn’t seen much in the way of masks since coming to this world. It was a shame; she was sure they’d be popular with the children if shops sold them when the winter festival came around. Held in the royal capital each year, the festival was best known as an event for couples to enjoy and an opportunity for lonely hearts to find a new partner. It dawned on her then that she and Tobias had never gone. She herself had never suggested it, but she couldn’t help wondering if there might have been more to it than that.

Dahlia’s escapist pondering was suddenly interrupted by the others at the table.

“Is he off his rocker?!” Marcello shouted. “You just moved in together!”

“After two years, that’s what he comes out with?!” Irma huffed, incensed.

“‘True love’ my ass! Cheating’s what that is!”

“Unbelievable!”

Seeing the two of them get so angry on her behalf, Dahlia couldn’t help feeling pleased. Did that make her a little twisted? She hoped not.

Over the last two years, Dahlia, Tobias, Irma, and Marcello had met many a time to enjoy meals and drinks together. Calling them best friends might have been an exaggeration, but they certainly enjoyed one another’s company. Dahlia had heard that Marcello and Tobias often went drinking together after Marcello finished transporting goods for Orlando & Co. She felt a little guilty about souring that relationship.

“I appreciate it, both of you. But I’m okay, honestly. This engagement was something our fathers decided, after all, and both of them are gone now.”

The moment she said that, something else occurred to her.

As far as Tobias was concerned, the benefit of marrying Dahlia must have lain in gaining the endorsement of her father, a master magical tool craftsman. Dahlia was a full-fledged toolmaker too, but unlike her father, she had not been honored with a title, and her skills were still a long way from matching his. In short, there wasn’t much in it for Tobias now that her father was no longer alive. If he’d found a girl he really liked, perhaps it wasn’t surprising that his priorities had changed.

“You haven’t registered your marriage yet, have you, Dahlia?” Irma asked.

“No, we were going to do that tomorrow. We haven’t even filled out the form yet.”

“Well, thank your lucky stars! You deserve so much better,” Irma said with a vigorous nod.

Dahlia would have preferred it if Tobias had made up his mind about this sooner, but yes, at least he hadn’t waited until they were actually married.

“He’s got some nerve, making a girl like you cry,” Marcello growled. “He can pay every last coin of the removal fees, and you bet I’ll pad those bills! Bah, I’m never drinking with him again.”

Dahlia had nearly pointed out that she wasn’t crying, but Marcello’s voice had grown more thunderous with every word, so she decided to hold her peace.

“Oh, Dahlia. It’s all right, you know. You can cry if you want to. How about having a few drinks with us? I can close up shop for the afternoon.”

“There’s an idea,” Marcello agreed. “If you give me your key, you can stay here, and I’ll take care of moving the furniture. Going back to that house and seeing Tobias must be the last thing you want.”

Two pairs of brown eyes—Irma’s like cinnamon, and Marcello’s a darker, terra-cotta shade—gazed at Dahlia with concern. These two were always so in tune with each other. Dahlia felt a pang of envy.

“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want this to drag out any more than need be, so I’m going to the Merchants’ Guild today to take care of everything.”

“Well, you let us know if there’s anything we can do, all right?”

“You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you both, truly.”

The egg sandwich Dahlia ate after thanking them both seemed just a little tastier than usual.

After rounding off lunch at Irma’s with a cup of coffee, Dahlia headed for the Merchants’ Guild. Located on the main street, the five-story building made of black bricks was impossible to miss. There was always a steady stream of people traveling through its three large doors, many of them visitors from overseas. Some wore vividly embroidered coats draped over their shoulders, while others sported head wraps and long robes with trailing sleeves. Wafts of perfume and spices filled Dahlia’s nose as she approached the guild. She gave a friendly greeting to the guards, then went inside.

The guild’s first floor was mainly for clients to consult with the staff. Dahlia’s destination was the second floor, so she continued straight upstairs.

“Good afternoon.”

The second floor was where the contracts desk was located, manned by a young woman with black hair and a rather stout middle-aged man. Dahlia had visited many times on account of her work, so she was acquainted with them both.

“Oh, Miss Rossetti! Congratulations on your marriage!”

“Congratulations! We’re delighted for you.”

Their two beaming faces were almost painful to look at.

“That’s very kind of you; I appreciate it,” Dahlia replied. “But Mr. Orlando has broken off our engagement, so I’ll be needing our engagement certificate.”

There was a scraping and clunking of wood as the two receptionists leaped up from their chairs in unison. It was as if her announcement had triggered some sort of synchronized reaction.

“Wh-Whatever for?”

“It was Mr. Orlando who made the decision, not me.”

She couldn’t bring herself to tell them about Tobias’s “true love.” It wasn’t that she was trying to protect him; rather, it was her name that might be tarnished by her having been engaged to such a man.

“Mr. Orlando did? Is there some problem at Orlando & Co.?”

“It’s not for me to say. Please, if you have questions, could you ask him directly?”

When she said that, the man seemed to grasp the situation.

“Of course, please excuse us. If the problem lies with Mr. Orlando, then we oughtn’t be asking you. Now, how can we help?”

“We’ll need witnesses for breaking off the engagement and a scrivener to help us close the joint account for our work.”

A scrivener was an overseer, verifier, and validator of all kinds of governmental and commercial contracts and agreements. Put in the terms of Dahlia’s previous world, they were a cross between an administrative consultant and a lawyer. To say it wasn’t an easy career path would be an extreme understatement. Status and connections meant nothing for an aspiring scrivener. Only after going through many grueling exams, five years of study at a specialized institution, and finding no less than ten personal guarantors could they even hope to become qualified. Even those who did eventually make the grade were always just one misstep away from being stripped of their status. Any illegal activity on their part carried a severe punishment and would lead to their guarantors being investigated as well. There were few professions so strictly regulated.

Needless to say, providing a scrivener with false information or attempting to bribe or coerce them were also very serious offenses. Engaging the services of scriveners was understandably costly, but people saw it as a worthwhile investment to avoid complications with work and trade. Thankfully, the Merchants’ Guild had a number of resident scriveners. As long as they weren’t all engaged, arranging an appointment would be an easy matter.

“One hour with the scrivener will be four gilt silver, is that all right?”

“Yes. I’ll pay the fee.”

Converted to the money of her previous world, four gilt silver was equivalent to about forty thousand yen. It was a small price to pay for preventing complications down the road.

This kingdom’s currency was made up of several different coins—the highest in value was gold, followed by gilt silver, silver, copper, and finally the small halfpenny. A loaf of bread cost about one copper, so Dahlia imagined a halfpenny to be about fifty yen in value, with a copper being around a hundred yen. As a rough estimate, a silver coin was about a thousand yen, a gilt silver about ten thousand, and a gold about a hundred thousand yen. These were just Dahlia’s guesses based on the cost of goods in this world. Food and daily necessities were cheap, while clothes and precious metals were on the expensive side.

“Would it be possible to hold the meeting at two o’clock? If not, we can come whenever it’s convenient.”

“Allow me to check for you.”

The man hurried off to the third floor, where the scriveners’ offices were located.

“Um, Miss Rossetti,” the female receptionist said timidly. “You’ve only just moved, haven’t you?”

“I was supposed to move in today. I’ll be going back home to the Green Tower.”

The address Dahlia had registered with the guild was that of her original home. The old tower, situated in the outskirts of town, got its name from the vines that swathed the building. She’d stepped out the tower’s front door this morning and would return in the evening as if she’d never intended to leave. If nothing else, she hadn’t been rendered homeless by the ordeal.

“I’m not sure what to say, but please, don’t lose heart. You won’t be giving up your toolmaking, will you?”

The receptionist tried to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. It was only then that Dahlia noticed the furtive, curious glances of all the other staff behind the desks.

“No, definitely not. I’ll be back to work as soon as I’m settled in the tower again.”

“As an employee of the guild, I’m delighted to hear that—we all are. Your magical tools are so well regarded.”

“Thank you. I’m very grateful for the guild’s support.”

Dahlia could see the young woman was desperately trying to ameliorate the situation, so she forced the brightest smile she could manage. She wasn’t sure how bright it really was. At the very least, she hoped it showed she wouldn’t be plunged into grief by the loss of her fiancé.

Just then, the male receptionist returned from the third floor. “Miss Rossetti, I’ve scheduled an appointment for you with Mr. Kämpfer.”

Dahlia’s father had made sure to impress on her the importance of employing a scrivener when engaging in important negotiations or large transactions. She had dealt with Dominic Kämpfer many times, as had her father before her. His presence would be reassuring.

Just as she breathed a small sigh of relief, everyone’s gazes suddenly shifted behind her. She turned to see a woman with ivory-white hair approaching.

“Afternoon, Dahlia.”

“Vice-Guildmaster, good afternoon,” Dahlia replied with a small bow. “Thank you for all your support.”

This woman was Gabriella Jedda, the vice-guildmaster of the Merchants’ Guild. Though she was of mature years, she had an undeniably commanding presence. The finely tailored deep-blue dress and long string of baroque pearls she wore suited her well. Dahlia’s father had dealt with her at the guild ever since he was a young man; Dahlia had been a student when she’d first met her.

“If you’ve a contract to discuss, you’re welcome to use the meeting room next door. I think the third-floor rooms may be booked this afternoon.”

“Thank you very much.”

From “may be booked,” Dahlia surmised that at the moment, they weren’t. She happened to know that, for safety reasons, the meeting room attached to this office was not soundproofed. In other words, you want to hear everything. I see. Dahlia kept that thought to herself. However, Gabriella’s scarlet lips gently curved into a smile.

“Everyone seems terribly busy today. You wouldn’t mind if I filled in as one of your witnesses, would you?”

“Not at all. That would be very kind of you.”

A novice toolmaker like Dahlia could hardly refuse such an offer from the vice-guildmaster herself.

Tobias entered the meeting room at precisely two o’clock. Dahlia, the two guild witnesses, and the scrivener were ready and waiting. Dahlia and Tobias sat opposite each other at the large table, both with a witness at their side. The scrivener sat one seat apart.

The witness at Tobias’s side was the first to speak. “We will now proceed with the dissolution of your engagement to marry, as stipulated in the engagement certificate, and the liquidation of your joint account. There are two guild witnesses present: Vice-Guildmaster Gabriella Jedda and myself, Contract Administrator Ivano Badoer.”

Ivano and Gabriella both bowed. Gabriella sat at Dahlia’s side, Ivano at Tobias’s.

“My name is Dominic Kämpfer, and I will be your scrivener.” After introducing himself, the elderly, gray-haired man also gave a small bow.

Dominic was the Merchants’ Guild’s longest-serving scrivener and its most in demand. Both Dahlia’s and Tobias’s fathers had employed his services for many years.

“Now, in order to dissolve your engagement, we must first liquidate your joint account with the Merchants’ Guild through which you receive your work orders, then apportion the balance. The current balance of the account shared by Mr. Tobias Orlando and Miss Dahlia Rossetti comes to forty gold. You will each be apportioned half of this total; is this satisfactory?”

Once both of them had assented, Dominic unwrapped a parcel that sat on the table beside the account documents. Dahlia and Tobias each had a blue cloth laid in front of them, upon which were stacked twenty gold coins. In yen, Dahlia estimated the value of each stack to be around two million. These were the profits Dahlia had earned from the original magical tools she had registered with the guild, payments she’d received for custom orders, and so on.

Most people would consider this quite a handsome sum of money, but for a magical toolmaker, maintaining a large amount of savings was a necessity. Their materials were expensive, and research quickly ate up funds as well. Furthermore, given that there was no such thing as insurance in this world, it was also important to have a safety net in case of illness or injury.

“Now, let us proceed to the dissolution of your engagement. The engagement certificate stipulates thus: ‘the party responsible for the dissolution shall be liable to pay the sum of twelve gold in damages to the other party.’ Which of you will be paying?”

“I will.” There was a cold formality in Tobias’s voice, quite different from his usual manner. “Twelve gold...” Dahlia heard him mutter to himself.

Was it more expensive than he’d expected, or cheaper? She couldn’t tell.

“Very well, Miss Rossetti will receive twelve gold. Do you wish to pay from the balance returned from your joint account?”

“Yes, please.”

From Tobias’s stack of twenty gold coins, twelve were transferred to Dahlia.

“We will now proceed to the contract regarding the house built during your engagement. The total cost was one hundred gold, with fifty gold paid by Mr. Orlando and fifty gold by Miss Rossetti. At present, the house is jointly owned by you both. It may be sold and the proceeds divided between you, or if one of you wishes to retain ownership of the property, you must compensate the other party with the amount paid at the time of purchase. How do you wish to proceed?”

“I will retain ownership,” Tobias replied as though it were obvious. Dahlia stayed silent.

“Very well. Please pay fifty gold to Miss Rossetti.”

From a bag he had brought with him, Tobias took out twenty gold coins and placed them alongside the stack of eight he had remaining. Then, he slid the whole amount toward Dahlia.

“I’ll get you the rest soon, Dahlia. I don’t have enough for the house right now. I swear I’ll pay you back once I can afford it.”

“Wha—?!”

The outburst came not from Dahlia, but from Ivano, seated at Tobias’s side. Gabriella stepped in.

“We cannot transfer ownership until the full amount is repaid, Mr. Orlando.”

“I know. I intend to pay the full amount. As long as Dahlia agrees, we can transfer ownership now, can’t we?”

Dahlia was speechless.

Was there truly a man alive who would think to take out a loan from the woman he’d just broken up with so he could live in their house with his new lover? Was there really a man so stupid and so shameless as to ask her this here, at the Merchants’ Guild, in front of two official witnesses and a scrivener, as if it were the most natural thing in the world?

Yes, unfortunately, there was—and he was sitting right in front of her. Dahlia couldn’t believe this was the same Tobias she’d always known.

Dominic loudly cleared his throat twice.

“Transferring ownership of the property before full payment has been made can lead to very serious problems. I strongly recommend against it, but it is your decision. How would you like to proceed?”

“We will wait until the payment is made in full,” said Dahlia, flatly refusing Tobias’s proposition.

“But it has to be done now! I promised Emilia we’d move in right away!”

Silence fell. Even Tobias, clearly aware that he’d blurted out too much, suddenly seemed at a loss for words.

Ivano may as well have had an enormous question mark pasted over his face as he goggled at Dahlia’s former fiancé. Gabriella wore an elegant smile, the warmth of which did not reach her eyes. Only Dominic somehow maintained a neutral expression, though his fingers were pressed so hard into the papers he held that they were turning white.

While looking at the scene in front of her, Dahlia was putting every last pleasant memory of her engagement through a mental shredder.

Gabriella was the first to break the silence.

“The guild has a relationship of trust with you, Mr. Orlando, so you are welcome to take out a loan with us.”

She directed a charming smile at the discomfited Tobias. The pointed way in which she spoke his surname did not escape Dahlia’s notice.

“You will be working, I trust, so monthly repayments should be manageable. If you intend to settle down with a new lady, it’s terribly important you properly settle your debts. She won’t think well of you otherwise.”

“I understand. Thank you.” His reply was a barely audible mutter.

The moment all the paperwork for the engagement and the loan was finished, Tobias all but ran out the door. The walls of this room situated next to the reception desk were exceedingly thin; the staff would no doubt have an entertaining story to tell their friends over drinks tonight. Doing her best to ignore a persistent headache, Dahlia finally stood up. She gave her thanks to Ivano, Gabriella, and Dominic before turning to leave.

“Er, Miss Dahlia? I hope you won’t think me rude, but I must ask you something.” The man with mustard-colored hair paused while gathering together the documents, his voice small and hesitant.

“Not at all, Ivano. Please, ask away.”

“Has Tobias always been such an id—I mean, such a man as that?”

Though he’d caught himself before the word “idiot” slipped out, Dahlia knew exactly what he’d wanted to say. A faraway look came into her eyes.

“No, that...was a first for me as well.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I was fine, but what can I do? No point in worrying about what I can’t change. Besides, I’ll be able to run my business just the way I like now. When I think of it that way, it doesn’t seem so bad,” Dahlia mused, being quite candid.

“I’m glad we could assist you today, Miss Dahlia.”

“Oh, Dominic, I’m very grateful.”

“It is a shame things turned out this way, but I hope you will keep your spirits up.”

“Yes, I’ll do my best.”

“I owe your father a great deal, you know. He left us so soon, I never had a chance to repay him. Please let me know if there’s ever anything I can help you with. Beyond just my services as a scrivener, I mean.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Dominic’s low, gentle voice reminded Dahlia of her father. She felt deeply grateful for his kindness.

“He’s quite right, you know,” Gabriella chimed in. “There’s no need for you to carry your troubles alone. You have many friends and colleagues who value you greatly, so be sure to reach out to them should you need help. Myself included, of course.”

“I understand,” Dahlia replied softly.

“Now, the paperwork’s all taken care of, but what do you plan to do next?” Gabriella asked.

“For now, I’ll go to the new house and have all my furniture taken back home.”

“Will you need a hand? I can fetch some people, if you’d like.”

“No, thank you. I only moved out of the tower this morning, so going back again will be straightforward.”

Gabriella nodded in acknowledgment before opening the meeting room door wide. The sight of all the staff immediately averting their curious gazes was really quite funny. Gabriella turned slowly back to Dahlia with an elegant smile.

“I’ll just say this, Dahlia: congratulations on a lucky escape.”

When Dahlia descended to the guild’s first floor, she found Marcello already there waiting for her. Two other men from the Couriers’ Guild were with him. All three of them wore a vivid green armband, the badge of a Couriers’ Guild member. This color represented the wind, with the idea being that the guild’s members carried goods with all the ease and swiftness of a breeze.

“Hi, Dahlia. Everything taken care of?”

“Yes, it’s all done. We can go straight to the house now.”

“Right, let’s go and get things moved, then.”

They boarded a large carriage that would take them to what should have been Dahlia’s new home. The carriage itself was ordinary enough, but what pulled it certainly wasn’t—it was drawn along by a gray sleipnir. These eight-legged animals were about one-and-a-half times larger than ordinary horses and many times stronger, making them a popular choice for the Couriers’ Guild. Their gentle expressions and deep-black eyes actually made them quite endearing.

It took only a few minutes to reach the house. When it had come to choosing the location, Tobias had prioritized close proximity to the Merchants’ Guild and his family home, where Orlando & Co. was based. This had been to facilitate the transport of their products and to make arranging business meetings more convenient—although none of this was of any use to Dahlia now.

To her relief, no one was home. She set about locating all of her belongings.

“So, if you could take the boxes in the corridor there, the boxes in the workshop, and everything you brought over last time, that would be great. I haven’t unpacked anything yet, so it’s all ready to go.”

Until last week, Tobias had been using the workshop in Dahlia’s house. He’d bought a lot of new equipment for them to use in the new house, but Dahlia liked her old, familiar tools, so she’d brought them with her. They were still all bundled up, so it would be no trouble to move them back.

“Your furniture was just the closet and the dresser, right?”

“That’s right. They’re still empty.”

The closet and dresser were keepsakes from Dahlia’s mother. Of course, since she had never known her mother, it was the way her father had treasured these pieces that she had always been more keenly aware of. Both were currently in a room that had been intended for Dahlia’s use.

“Got it. We’ll load up the stuff that’s still packed just as it is.” Marcello turned to his men. “Double-wrap the closet and dresser, will you?” The two of them set about readying the large cloth sheets. “Is there anything else you want us to take?”

“Well, I bought the bed in the master bedroom, but I already have my own back at the tower. I wonder what I should do with it.”

“We can take it apart and bring it with us, or you could sell it off. Hell, you could make Tobias buy it.”

They made their way to the bedroom as they spoke.

At Tobias’s request, Dahlia had bought them a large double bed. It had been a good bargain, as she remembered. The light on the bedside table was something she’d bought partly out of interest as a magical toolmaker. It was made with a new kind of magical technology that allowed its brightness to be adjusted. I’ll just take a look at it to see how it works, she thought to herself as she entered the room.

“Oh!”

After just a single step inside, Dahlia hurriedly retreated and closed the door again. She didn’t get the chance to so much as look at the bedside table. The matching ivory-white bedding was in disarray, a pillow lying on the floor.

“What’s wrong, Dahlia?”

“Er, it’s, um...” She fumbled for words.

“Is someone in there?”

“No. Well, not anymore.”

“Mind if I take a look? If it’s a thief, they could still be hiding in there.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

Dahlia quickly scooted away from the door. The possibility of a thief being inside hadn’t even crossed her mind, though she now remembered hearing that they often targeted new houses. We’d best be careful.

“Um, is it all right if I stay out here?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure it’s safe. It’s an en-suite bedroom, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Years working for the Couriers’ Guild meant Marcello was familiar with how most houses were laid out. He was able to build a mental picture of rooms with ease. After listening at the door for a few moments, he took a metal rod in his hand and cautiously entered.

“C’mon out, Tobias, you pea brain. Time to meet your maker.”

Dahlia pretended not to hear the menacing snarl that carried through the door. It wasn’t long before Marcello appeared again.

“Nothing but a couple of rats,” he grumbled. “Made this damn mess and then scurried away.” Apparently, Tobias had sunk so low in his estimation that he was on the level of vermin now.

“I see. I’m just glad we didn’t run into them.”

One of the men working in another room called out, “Hey, Marcello! D’you have a minute?”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.”

Assuming they had some guild business to talk about, Dahlia lingered in the corridor, staring blankly at a pile of boxes. She had less than she thought. She’d left some things at home, intending to bring them over later—her books, clothes for other seasons, and so on. That had turned out to be a good decision.

“Uh, Dahlia, could you come in here for a sec?”

There was a grim look on Marcello’s face as he leaned out of the doorway.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh, your closet’s filled with women’s clothes.”

“Well, she didn’t waste any time.”

“I’m sorry, but just to be sure... These aren’t yours, are they?”

“No, they certainly aren’t.”

She saw a puff-sleeved dress in pale yellow and a colorful, floral print stole, as well as a pink gown generously trimmed with lace. It was clear from the sizes alone, never mind the designs, that these did not belong to Dahlia. She didn’t own a single garment that was anything like these things in style or color.

“Those things were in the dresser.”

Marcello pointed to a table, upon which lay a pink makeup bag, a white handkerchief, and a silver pendant. The flat, round pendant was engraved with a coat of arms Dahlia had never seen before. She furrowed her brow as she examined it.

“This looks like it belongs to a noble—a viscount or higher.”

“Not a baron?”

“I don’t think barons usually have a coat of arms. If someone has defeated a huge monster and been awarded a ceremonial weapon, I hear they sometimes engrave those, but it’s not common.”

She used the edge of the handkerchief to turn the pendant over, careful not to touch it directly. Etched on the reverse was the family name, somewhat faint with age but still legible.

“Tallini... Yes, this must be hers.”

Emilia Tallini, just as Tobias had told her.

One of Marcello’s men spoke up. “I think that coat of arms might be Lord Tallini’s. He’s the viscount who governs the fourth town along the southern highway. My grandmother’s from there.”

Everyone’s expressions became uneasy. The woman Tobias had brought here was connected to Viscount Tallini. Leaving the pendant here may have been a deliberate ploy to tell them that.

“Want me to drag that fool Tobias back here so he can explain himself?” Marcello asked Dahlia.

“No. The woman who owns this pendant works at his company. Besides, I’m finished with him. I’ve got no intention of contacting him again.”

“All right. It’ll cost a bit, but if I were you, I’d get a scrivener in to verify that everything you’re taking belongs to you. Better being safe than sorry if there’s nobility involved. I’ll get you the list of everything we moved for you the first time.”

“Thank you. That sounds like a good idea.”

It was an extra expense, but if it would avoid any hassle, then she was more than happy to pay up.

“Shall we send for a scrivener from the Couriers’ Guild? Or would you prefer one from the Merchants’ Guild?”

“Could you see if there’s anyone free at the Merchants’ Guild, please? Dominic Kämpfer would be ideal, if he’s available.”

“Of course,” said one of the men. “I’ll go right away.” With that, he hurried off to the carriage.

“I’m so sorry to waste your time like this.”

Marcello kindly brushed off her apology. “Not at all. There’re always a few disagreements over who owns what when a couple’s splitting up. We get scriveners in to sort things out all the time.”

“That’s right. Please, Miss Rossetti, don’t let it bother you.”

She could see they were doing their best to make her feel better, and she managed to put on a brave face. Marcello seemed to see right through it, though.

“If you’d like, I can pay the scrivener and send the bill on to Tobias.”

“No, no, that’s all right. I’ll pay. I don’t want any complaints out of him.”

“Well then, why don’t you celebrate not getting married to the biggest fool in Ordine by letting me cover it?”

“I appreciate the thought, Marcello. But I’d much rather you and Irma just come dine with me at the tower once everything’s settled down. We’ll have a proper drink this time.”

“Sounds dandy. Make sure you get the good stuff, eh?”

For as long as she’d been engaged to Tobias, Dahlia had limited herself to just one glass whenever she drank alcohol. Tobias didn’t like her to drink. It wasn’t ladylike, he’d said, for a woman to drink until her face turned red. Since then, she’d all but stopped. Tobias tended to become sullen when he drank. More than once, he’d been carried home on Marcello’s back after a few too many. But now Dahlia didn’t need to hold back anymore. Hitting a bar with just Irma and Marcello didn’t sound bad at all.

While Dahlia and Marcello were chatting about this and that, the man who’d taken the carriage returned with Dominic in tow.

“I’m sorry to trouble you again so soon, Dominic.”

“It’s quite all right; I did say to call on me anytime. No need to apologize.”

Dominic listened with a kindly smile as Dahlia explained all about the move, her furniture and belongings, and the things here that were not hers. She tried to remain indifferent, but the overwhelming air of sympathy filling the room almost made her want to run and hide. Only Dominic remained serenely calm and professional as he took stock of all Dahlia’s belongings and prepared the documents in no time at all.

“How much will that be? I’ll pay now.”

“Ah, well, we finished our meeting earlier a little ahead of time, as I recall. Three silver to cover the cost of documents will be plenty.”

“Thank you.”

She handed over the coins and then quickly got back to packing.

The light outside was dimming, evening drawing in already. The back of Marcello’s carriage had ample space for cargo and enough seats for several people. Once everything was loaded, everyone climbed into the back, and they set off. It was that time in the evening when the roads became more congested with carriages and people, making the journey a little longer than before, but it only took around ten minutes before they reached the Merchants’ Guild.

“I just need to go and hand in the house key at the counter. I won’t be long.”

“You sure? I don’t mind going,” Marcello offered.

“The two of you must be tired. Let me take it for you,” said Dominic, stopping Dahlia as she made to climb down from the carriage.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t trouble you any further.”

“After our meeting this afternoon, I expect the rumor mill is in full swing. You’ll be mobbed. Please, won’t you leave this to me?”

He was right. She could very well imagine the staff quizzing her on every detail of the breakup the moment she stepped through the door. She truly didn’t have the strength to face that right now.

“You’re right. Thank you, Dominic.”

“No need.”

Having taken the key, Dominic looked down pensively for a moment before raising his gaze to look Dahlia squarely in the eye.

“It may be a tad improper of me to say this, Miss Dahlia, but I believe today was an important turning point for you, and you made the right choice. I pray the future brings you naught but happiness.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

Goodbyes exchanged, Dahlia gazed after his retreating back until he finally disappeared inside the guild.

After another short ride aboard the carriage, the high stone wall that encircled the royal capital rose into view, and along with it, the vine-wrapped tower that Dahlia called home. It was a sight for sore eyes. The Green Tower, as it was called by those who knew it, was a fairly old building made of stone. Dahlia had lived there with her father ever since she was small, but since his passing, she’d been living there alone.

Just this morning, she had been prepared to leave it behind and begin her new married life. She and Tobias could have lived here comfortably, but Tobias had had his heart set on the city center. Being close to the Merchants’ Guild and his trading company would make it easier to manufacture and sell more of their products—that had been his reasoning.

The tower was ringed by a wall made of dark, red-brown bricks. It was about the height of a man and had bronze gates wide enough for a carriage to pass through. Dahlia jumped down from her seat and laid a hand upon the gates. Just a touch, and they swung smoothly open all on their own.

“They’re really nifty, those gates,” said one of Marcello’s men, impressed.

“Wish all the ones at the Couriers’ Guild worked like that,” muttered the other.

As long as they were on the register, all a person had to do was lightly touch these gates and they would open. It wasn’t necessarily the gates themselves that interested the men, just the automatic function. Opening and closing high-security gates could make moving goods in and out of warehouses a slow process. There were some castles and homes of high-ranking nobles that had automatic gates, but from what Dahlia had heard, they required quite a large amount of magic crystals and regular maintenance.

As far as Dahlia was aware, however, her gate had never been resupplied with crystals, and it didn’t require any particular upkeep. Her grandfather, the man who’d designed and built the gate, had left no blueprints, not even passing on any verbal hints regarding its construction. To figure out the mechanism, she would have to take it apart. Her father had always said he’d do it one of these days, but he’d passed away before he had the chance.

“It was my grandfather who made this, but he didn’t leave us blueprints or anything,” she told them. “If I ever do manage to work it out and recreate it, you’ll be my first customers.”

“Hey, if anyone can do it, you can.”

“We’ll be waiting with bated breath!”

Dahlia couldn’t help smiling at their enthusiasm, even if it was a little over the top. Once they pulled up to the tower, Dahlia took out her key and unlocked the front door. This key was just an ordinary one, for an ordinary lock.

Now it was time to unload. Members of the Couriers’ Guild often used magic to enhance their strength. As for any boxes that were a little heavy for Dahlia and any large pieces of furniture, these men could carry them up the tower’s stairs with ease. Her few belongings were whisked inside in the blink of an eye.

“I reckon that’s all of it. Just sign here, would you?”

“Thanks for everything, Marcello. You’ve been such a big help.”

Once Dahlia signed the receipt, the men bid her goodbye and returned to the carriage. Only Marcello hung back.

“You won’t have anything in for dinner; why don’t you come eat with Irma and me tonight?”

“Oh, it’s nice of you to offer. I’ve got some dried food, though, and I want to get everything unpacked tonight.”

“All right. Don’t overdo it, though.”

Dahlia followed Marcello to the gate, ready to see him off. But after hopping up onto the carriage, he soon returned with a somewhat large burlap sack, which he handed over to her. Nestled inside were Dahlia’s favorite walnut bread and a bottle of red wine.

“Irma said to give you this if you weren’t coming over.”

“Thank you. You really do have the loveliest wife.”

“She’s a good friend, huh?”

“She really is.”

Dahlia felt a slight lump in her throat, but she swallowed it back. If she cried now, Marcello would never leave her here on her own. The last thing she wanted was to impose on anyone more than she already had today.

Irma had such good instincts. She must have known Dahlia would just want to hole up in her tower tonight and wouldn’t come out even if invited. The two of them were childhood friends. When they were young, Irma had lived near the tower, but she’d moved into the city center to train as a hairdresser. It was there that she had met Marcello, and they’d married soon after. She and Dahlia had always kept in touch, even after Dahlia had gone to college and Irma was married. Dahlia had always felt thankful to have a friend like that.

“It won’t take me long to get the place straightened out again. As soon as everything’s settled down, you have to come over for dinner with Irma, all right?”

“Sure will. Looking forward to it.”

As the carriage finally pulled away, Dahlia waved them off with the best smile she could muster.

Sitting on her bottom and moping felt too much like admitting defeat, so instead, Dahlia set about unpacking and returning every last one of her belongings to its proper home. She opened up all the boxes, putting things back in place in the first floor’s laboratory and storeroom. In her room on the third floor, she returned the contents of her closet and dresser. She felt slightly uncomfortable using the furniture again, so she opened a few packets of her favorite soap and put them inside. In a few days’ time, they would take on a pleasant, familiar smell again. There was nothing wrong with the furniture itself, and her father had treasured it, so she decided to simply forget about what had happened to it.

By the time she’d finished unpacking and putting everything away, it was already past midnight. She decided to have a late dinner in the living room on the second floor, next to the kitchen. She sank into the sofa, sipped her wine, and took a bite of the walnut bread. The aromatic bread and the wine paired very nicely. After finishing the bread, she reached into a bag of preserved food she kept for emergencies and took out some nuts and dried fruit. Then she had a little more wine.

What a day.

She’d moved into her brand-new house this morning, only for her fiancé of two years to announce that he was leaving her for someone else. After that, it was off to the Merchants’ Guild to deal with all the paperwork, then moving all over again.

It was Tobias’s unfaithfulness that had shocked her more than anything else. She’d believed he was an honest and principled sort of person, and that he would be a good husband. She’d believed they would make a good team at work. They had never exchanged any passionate declarations of love, but she’d assumed they would simply settle down into a nice, quiet life. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined him bringing another woman into their house on the day before they’d planned to marry. Whatever his excuse, some things were simply unforgivable. If nothing else, at least he’d seen to it that she’d have no regrets about leaving him.

“It’s funny; the tears just won’t come.”

In theory, she ought to have been heartbroken, yet she felt no particular urge to cry. She took a hearty gulp of wine and a bite of dried fruit. As she drank, she ran her memories of Tobias through her mind. She remembered their conversations about magical tools, the two of them crafting together and discussing deliveries and pricing, but...that was all she remembered.

Now she understood. She hadn’t been in love with him.

As she drank up the last of her wine, a few tears finally slid down her cheeks, but they had nothing to do with Tobias. She was thinking of her father. If only Carlo had been here, they could have shared everything—at first anger, then too much wine, and in the end, a good deal of laughter. Dahlia was quick to blame her moment of weakness on the wine. She’d had a little too much, that was all.

The next day, Dahlia had the worst awakening of her life.

Her front doorbell—not the one at the gates—was being rung incessantly. There were only a select few people who could open the gates. The only likely candidate was her friend Irma. But as Dahlia rubbed her sleepy eyes and opened the door, it was Tobias she saw standing there.

She’d been unpacking and tidying until late at night, then drinking wine into the early hours of the morning. Her face was puffy, her hair wild. At first she wanted to ask what on earth he was doing here so early, but then she noticed that the sun was already high in the sky.

“Uh... Look, sorry about this, but I need to have your engagement bracelet back.”

She’d been in a foul enough mood already. Now, somehow, her ex-fiancé had managed to make it ten times worse.

My engagement bracelet?

In this kingdom, it was customary for a man to give his fiancée a bracelet when they became engaged, or for the two of them to exchange bracelets. In the terms of her previous world, it was like an engagement ring and wedding ring rolled into one. There were some subtle differences, however. In cases where the man gifted the bracelet to the woman, the woman would then send him something equal to the value of at least two months’ living expenses. This way, if anything were to go wrong, they could simply sell the items and not be left at a loss. It acted as a kind of insurance. If the engagement were to be broken off, the recipient of the bracelet tended to keep it.

Dahlia remembered when Tobias had given her hers. He’d cautioned her to be careful not to damage it, so she’d put it away in her jewelry box and only worn it when they went out together. In preparation for the move yesterday, she’d packed it away carefully so it wouldn’t be damaged and, in truth, forgotten all about its existence until now.

“I’ve never heard of anyone demanding their bracelet back before.”

“I’m sorry. I was going to make Emilia a new one, but it’s just, you know, I need it quickly and I don’t have much time on my hands.”

Dahlia thanked the gods from the bottom of her heart that she hadn’t married this man. To think his new fiancée, new wife—whatever she was—would be receiving Dahlia’s hand-me-down... She almost felt sorry for her. Silently, she cursed the wretched man.

“Fine then.”

Selling the thing would just be a hassle anyway. She couldn’t be bothered trying to wring the money out of Tobias either. All she wanted was for him to leave right now and never show his face here again.

“I’ll go and get it. Wait there.”

She shut the door and immediately raced to the third floor. She rifled through the jewelry box in her room, grabbing the engagement bracelet and a pair of earrings. She dropped them into the first bag she could lay her hands on, then went back to the door and thrust them at Tobias.

“There, one engagement bracelet. You can take those earrings, too, while you’re at it.”

The slender gold bracelet was set with carnelian, the stones carefully matched to the chestnut and almond shades of Tobias’s hair and eyes. It was quite a chic design, and Dahlia had once been fairly fond of it.

The simple stud earrings featured round orange garnets.

In this kingdom, many people liked to wear jewelry such as pendants, earrings, rings, and so on, each with the color of their partner’s eyes or hair. These earrings had been a gift for her birthday last year. Tobias had cautioned her not to wear them while working, so she’d only put them on a handful of times. She had no interest in wearing them ever again, that was for certain.

Tobias nodded meekly as he took the bag. He then reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small white box.

“I’ll give you these back.”

They were rubies Dahlia had given him last year as a thank-you for the earrings. Though small, they were completely flawless and shone beautifully in the light. She’d gifted them to him as is so they could be set in a ring or bracelet when he’d decided what he’d like. But they were still untouched, glittering brilliantly in the little box just as they had on that day. A bitter smile twisted her lips as she took them back. Tobias’s interest in her had clearly waned a long time ago.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I’m truly sorry.”

As he stood there with his head lowered, Dahlia shut the door without a word.

She felt an intense burning in the back of her throat. Whether it was anger or grief, she couldn’t tell. She went straight to the workshop, where she erased Tobias’s name from the gate’s control panel. Now he would no longer be able to open it. She shoved the small box of rubies to the back of the nearest shelf, then rushed into the bathroom. She activated a magical device made with water and fire crystals, which began to pour hot water into the bathtub. She threw off her clothes, climbed into the still-shallow water, and splashed her face several times.

No, no more moping. She couldn’t break her promise to herself already. There was no need to cry over Tobias. He wasn’t worth it, she reminded herself again and again. Once she’d calmed down a little, she got out of the tub and thoroughly washed her hair and body.

Here in the royal capital, houses had running water in the kitchens and bathrooms. This was all thanks to a steady supply of cheap water crystals. According to what Dahlia had learned from her father and while studying at college, about twenty or so years ago, the king had announced the Great Water Reform. The king’s wish had been that no household in the land should be without an adequate supply of water. Research to find a solution had begun at once.

The viscount who was in charge of managing the kingdom’s sewer network at the time had established a system to mass-produce water crystals. For his achievement, the title of earl had been bestowed upon him. To this day, he was responsible for most of the kingdom’s water crystal production, and he had even extended his responsibilities to the distribution and purification of the capital’s water, as well as the sewer network. Rumor had it that his successor was likely to be made a marquis.

Clean drinking water, flushing toilets, and enough water to take a bath every day if she wished—to someone like Dahlia, born and raised in Japan, these amenities were a godsend.

She climbed back into the bath and sat there gazing at her little store of water crystals. They were deep blue in color, egg-shaped, and small enough that she could easily fit four in the palm of her hand. The manner in which they were cut told you at a glance that they were magic crystals. Just one of these was enough to fill a bath with water several times over. They’d been mass-produced for many years now and could be bought for just a few copper coins.

Particles of magic existed in every corner of this world. To awaken their properties, Dahlia had learned, one simply had to discover the right process. And yet, so much about magic was still unknown. Take these water crystals, for instance—were they simply concentrating moisture found in the air? Were they doing something truly magical and transporting water from somewhere else in the world? Or were they somehow creating it out of nothing? At present, there were no established theories or serious studies being done. When Dahlia had casually posed these questions to her professor of magical studies at college, they’d been delighted and eagerly invited her into the laboratories.

Along with materials from a variety of magical creatures, Dahlia often used fire crystals and air crystals in her work. She had money to spare now that her payment for the new house had been returned—it might have been just the right time to embark on a new project, this time using water crystals.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her soap sitting in its usual place. She’d been using it until now without giving it any particular thought, but it occurred to her that, while there was bar soap and liquid soap in this world, there were none of those little bottles that dispensed soap as foam. It seemed they were one of the many inventions that only existed in her previous world. She could more or less remember how they worked; she’d disassembled and reconstructed one before. While they weren’t exactly magical, she felt sure they would be useful for bathing and handwashing if she could recreate them. She wondered why she’d never remembered them before.

I have to write this down.

Dahlia got out of the bath right away. Before she knew it, her thoughts of Tobias had disappeared like soap bubbles.

Early in the afternoon, Dahlia paid a visit to Irma at her salon. She gave a knock on the door and entered. Irma had just finished with a client who was on their way out.

“Thanks so much for yesterday, Irma. I brought you these; I thought they could be your dinner tonight.”

Dahlia placed a generously sized parcel of ham and sausages on the table in the reception area.

“Oh, thank you. Those look great, but there’s way too much! Why don’t you eat with us tonight?”

“That’s kind of you, but I have some work stuff to sort out. I’ll come another time.”

Just then, Dahlia happened to catch a glimpse of her reflection in one of the salon’s mirrors. Her thick, dark-brown hair was tied up in a simple fashion. Her face looked so tired, not a hint of makeup to brighten it. Even her black-rimmed glasses were dull. It was a very gloomy-looking young woman who stared back at her.

“Irma, do you have any more clients today?”

“No, that was the last one.”

“Well, would you have time to do me, then?”

“Of course! What’re you thinking?”

“Let’s chop it short. And...I want my natural color back.”

Dahlia’s natural hair was an intense, rich red. It was the same color as her mother’s, she’d heard, though she had no way to see that for herself.

Hair like a beautiful sunrise, like the darling crimson clovers—Dahlia remembered the maid who’d sometimes looked after her when she was a child praising her so. In truth, she wasn’t all that fond of the color. When she was little, she’d wanted sandy blonde hair like her father’s. Her eyes were the same color as his, and she’d thought her hair ought to match too.

“Gosh, it’s longer than I realized. How short do you want it?”

“I like to tie it back when I’m working, so just long enough for that.”

When Dahlia unbound her hair, she found it fell halfway down her back. She hadn’t realized how much it had grown either. Once she was seated comfortably in one of the salon’s chairs, Irma began carefully brushing her hair.

“You’ve got a little bit of a curl in it, so if we take it to just above your shoulders... Would about here be okay?”

“Perfect. I’m in your hands.”

Irma nodded, and then put a white cape around Dahlia and began to cut her hair. Irma’s skill was evident in the smooth and dextrous motions of her hands. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the light snipping of her scissors.

“You’ve been growing out your hair ever since you got engaged, haven’t you?”

“Tobias wanted me to. He said my hair would look nicer long and dark. Dyeing it at home was getting to be a hassle, though, with how long it’s gotten.”

“Your natural color’s lovely, though. And it suits your skin tone.”

“It’s just that red can look so gaudy.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, you know. The more I hear it, the more it sounds like a pretext for something else.”

Irma frowned as she kept on cutting without pause. Strand after strand of Dahlia’s long hair floated down onto the polished wooden floor.

“I have clients come to me quite often after getting engaged or married, asking me to tone down their color. Nine times out of ten, it’s the husband who’s put them up to it.”

“I suppose they want to make the right impression on their in-laws, or people at work perhaps.”

“That’s what they often say, but I think the real reason is something else.”

Irma stopped for a moment, meeting Dahlia’s gaze in the mirror. Her earrings, a pair of stones in a rich reddish-brown color, glinted in the light. They were the same shade as Marcello’s eyes.

“A man who wants to dull down his wife’s appearance is just showing his insecurity, don’t you think?”

“Is that it?”

“Men like that think that if she looks too beautiful, then someone else might steal her away. If you ask me, a real man would have more confidence in himself and a lot more faith in his lady.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Dahlia replied, nodding.

However, she couldn’t apply this thinking to her own situation at all. Tobias had never once seemed concerned about Dahlia being taken from him. She doubted he’d even have minded that much if she had been.

Once Irma had finished cutting, they went over to the sink in the corner of the salon. Irma prepared some hot water with a water crystal and a fire crystal, dissolved in it a product for removing hair dye, then soaked Dahlia’s hair in the solution. After that, she thoroughly washed it with shampoo twice and then rinsed it clean. Next, she combed a perfumed oil through the hair for shine before finally using a magical dryer powered by air and fire crystals. Soft, silky waves of rich red hair blew around Dahlia’s shoulders.

Dryers were invented by Dahlia’s father when she was a child. To be more accurate, they were a joint accomplishment between father and daughter. Back when she was just beginning her studies of magic, she had come up with a design for a small device that would blow warm air using air crystals and fire crystals. She’d made it in secret, hoping to surprise her father, but due to her inexperience, she’d had little idea of how to calculate the device’s output. Thus, the result had been a compact but highly effective flamethrower. Even now, she could clearly recall her normally mild-mannered father’s fury when she’d accidentally scorched the workshop wall.

After her scolding, she’d tearfully explained her design and what it had been intended to do. Not only had he understood, but the pair had spent the rest of the day and night refining the design, having a whale of a time as they experimented. By the next morning, they had created a perfect hair dryer. She fondly remembered the maid coming in that morning and giving her father quite a tongue-lashing for letting his daughter stay up all night long.

“There, that suits you so much better.”

“Thanks, Irma. It’s so light; it feels great.”

The red-haired young woman in the mirror smiled. It had been two years since she’d seen her vivid natural color; it would take a little time to get used to it again.

“I don’t have any more bookings this afternoon, so why don’t we have some coffee?”

Dahlia happily agreed and followed her through to the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with the unpacking and everything back home?”

“No, that’s okay. There wasn’t all that much to begin with,” said Dahlia as she accepted a cup of coffee. She never took sugar, but today she added just a little.

“Marcello told me what happened yesterday. I’m sure everyone else has said the same thing, but you absolutely made the right choice.”

“Yes, I think so too,” Dahlia answered without reservation. “You know, he turned up at the tower this morning.”

“Who? You mean—oh, I don’t want to even say his name anymore. So, what did he want? Did he come to his senses and apologize? He didn’t beg you to take him back, did he?”

“No... No, he came to ask for my engagement bracelet back so he could give it to his new fiancée.”

“Bghk!”

All of a sudden, Irma’s coffee and her table were in a terrible state.

“A-Are you serious?!”

As the incandescent Irma choked on the coffee she’d inhaled, Dahlia hurried to pat her back.

“I’m sorry! I should have waited until you were finished drinking.”

“It’s fine, never mind that. What the hell was he thinking?! What would he even do with your bracelet? Take the stones out and put them in a new one?”

“I think he means to use it just as it is. Said there wasn’t time for him to make a new one.”

“I can’t believe he’d try to do something so stupid. Wait, Dahlia, you didn’t give it to him, did you?”

“I did, along with the earrings he got for my birthday.”

“Oh, but you should have sold them! You could’ve gotten a good price for those.”

Irma was right; she could have sold them for a tidy sum. Money was important, especially now. She had no family, no plans to marry. While she was gainfully employed, the costs of materials and research involved in magical toolmaking were quite steep. You could never have enough savings. It was just that, at that moment, all she’d wanted was to sever her ties with Tobias as quickly and cleanly as possible.

“I just didn’t want anything to do with him anymore; that was all I could think about. I know it was probably a bit of a waste.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame you. I don’t particularly want to see his face again either. And you don’t need him, anyway. You’re a fine craftswoman. If you keep working as hard as you have been, you’ll be just fine.”

Irma fetched herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down. As she dropped in some sugar and swirled it around with a teaspoon, she glanced Dahlia’s way with a slightly forbidding look in her eyes.

“Hey, Dahlia...what d’you say we spread this story around a little? It’d teach that man a lesson. If I mentioned it to my clients, it’d be all over town in no time.”

“Don’t,” Dahlia replied firmly. “I don’t need everyone knowing I had someone like that for a fiancé. I couldn’t stand to have them all pitying me. No, I’m putting this whole affair into my dark past.”

“Your dark past, huh? Heh, I like it.”

That expression from Dahlia’s previous world seemed to translate well here. Irma smiled as she poured Dahlia a second cup of coffee.

“You’re right,” Irma continued. “The sooner we forget him, the better. You’ll find someone who deserves you. I just know it.”

While Dahlia appreciated her friend’s kind words, she couldn’t quite bring herself to nod in agreement. Finding love, getting married... Somehow, she couldn’t see herself doing these things anymore. On the contrary, they sounded like a huge headache.

“I’m starting to wonder if I really need to. I’m more interested in my work, to be honest.”

“You do love crafting your tools, don’t you?”

“I do. I don’t think I’d mind devoting my life to my craft. Once I’m old and gray, I could take on a young apprentice and train them so they could surpass me one day. Something like that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“As your friend, I know I should probably try to talk you out of it, but you’re right; that doesn’t sound bad at all.”

The two friends continued to laugh and chat together until it was almost dark.